Abandonment
by Relik
Summary: Everyone Zuko knew eventually left him. (Pre-series, Zuko's past)


_Author: I might kind of like to write angsty, sad Zuko. Maybe._

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><p><strong>Fade<strong>

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><p>It was Azula who left him first. He remembered when his mother had Azula; he had been two, and mostly unaware of what was happening. The nanny had brought him into his mother's rooms afterward, on Ursa's request. He remembered walking nervously up to the bed, worried that his mother was sick, or that he was in trouble. But instead, Ursa had smiled at him wearily and told him to say hello to his new little sister. She had been a tiny, wrinkled thing, red and squalling. Zuko had reached out to poke her round cheek, but she'd caught his finger in a flailing fist.<p>

"'Zula," he'd repeated, lisping, feeling her desperate grasp.

He remembered playing with her, shaking her rattle for her or making her stuffed rabaroo hop for her. He was the first to make her giggle. His name was her first word: Zuzu. He was the one to coax her first steps from her.

It wasn't until she firebent for the first time that things began to change. Zuko had cheered her as sparks had showered from her chubby child's fingers, and she had giggled along with his laughing and clapping. It didn't bother him that he had never done anything like that, not yet. But with the firebending came Ozai's attention, the praise for Azula and the dismissive, disappointed glances for Zuko. Even though she was considered young to be beginning training, Azula began to be taken away for firebending lessons. Lonely, and hurt by his father's dismissal, Zuko began seeking out his mother more and more.

Azula began to change. An edge of cruelty began to gild her every action. She learned Ozai's lessons well, becoming manipulative, taking pleasure in her power over others. One of her favorite targets was Zuko.

He didn't hate her. He didn't resent her abilities. Not at first. At first, all he mourned was the loss of the little sister who had loved him.

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><p><strong>Loneliness<strong>

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><p>"Everything I have done, I have done to protect you," his mother had whispered, her last words to him. He'd been half asleep, barely coherent. "Never forget who you are."<p>

He had fallen back asleep promptly after that, his last memory of his mother one of her turning up her hood and walking away. He'd almost believed it a dream, upon waking, because he had never imagined such a thing could happen. Had never thought forward to a time when his mother would not be there.

He would never see her again. Would never sit beside her at meals, or feed turtle-ducks with her, or turn a corner in the palace and see her walking the halls.

Grandfather Azulon had died the same night she'd gone. The nation mourned his death with an extravagant funeral, and though Zuko's throat had been tight with tears, they hadn't been for his grandfather. The nation mourned their Fire Lord; Zuko mourned his mother.

If there were rumors about the circumstances of Lady Ursa's disappearance, Zuko never heard them. It was left to his own imagination, and he'd had a lot of free time in which to wonder. With his mother gone, there were very few who spoke to Zuko outside of lessons or training. Zuko rarely even saw his father, busy as he was as the Fire Lord. He saw Azula frequently, though their interactions were more often composed of Azula manipulating or tormenting Zuko than any sort of sincere discussion. Any mention of their mother stirred a new tale from Azula about how Ursa had finally tired of pretending to love them, or how she'd been kidnapped, or fell ill, or been killed. Whatever the fiction, Ursa's absence was always painted as Zuko's fault. He never argued that. Azula liked to lie to him, but he knew this was true. It was his fault his mother was gone. She had even said so herself, her last words to him.

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><p><strong>Illusory<strong>

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><p>Zuko knew that his crew all thought his determination and insistence that he would find and capture the Avatar was foolishness. After all, the Avatar had not been seen for a hundred years; if he existed, he would have appeared at some point during that time, during one of the great battles. Perhaps even during the Siege of Ba Sing Se. But he hadn't, and the majority of the world's population took that to mean there was no more Avatar. The Fire Nation was no different. Zuko knew that the nobles were tittering and smirking to each other behind their ornamented fans. Knew that some few of them were thinking of his fate with something like pity.<p>

But he would prove all of them wrong. He'd do the impossible. He'd succeed where his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all failed. He would find the Avatar and he'd come home. And then his father would regret dismissing him. His father would respect him, love him, for his victory, for his loyalty.

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><p><strong>Wait<strong>

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><p>His uncle had always been kind to him. Zuko didn't much remember a time when General Iroh was not off in distant lands, fighting for Fire Lord Azulon's glory, for the Fire Nation's glory. But he remembered the letters that would come home, and the gifts that would come with. Remembered when Iroh finally returned to the palace two years after he'd broken his siege of Ba Sing Se. He'd treated Zuko with an indulgent fondness, telling him stories of the places he'd been, of people he'd met. He'd believed in Zuko.<p>

It had been the first bit of warmth Zuko had experienced since his mother had vanished.

He didn't trust it. He wouldn't let himself be lulled. Zuko barely knew his uncle, as kind as he seemed, but he knew this much: Sooner or later, Iroh would leave him. Just like everybody else.


End file.
